He looked at her again, and opened his lips to speak once, but closed them before he said, “I've got my own affairs to worry me. Isn't that reason enough for not interfering in theirs?”
“Not for you, Ben.”
“Then I don't choose to mix myself up in other people's misery. I don't like it, as you once said.”
“But you can't help it sometimes, as you said.”
“I can this time, Olive. Don't you see,—” he began.
“I see there's something you won't tell me. But I shall find it out.” She threatened him half playfully.
“I wish you could,” he answered. “Then perhaps you'd let me know.” She opened the door for him now, and as he passed out he said gently, “I am tired, but I sha'n't begin to rest till I have had this talk with Atherton. I had better go.”
“Yes,” Olive assented, “you'd better.” She added in banter, “You're altogether too mysterious to be of much comfort at home.”
The family heard him close the outside door behind him after Olive came back to them, and she explained, “He's gone out to talk it over with Mr. Atherton.”
His father gave a laugh of relief. “Well, if he leaves it to Atherton, I guess we needn't worry about it.”